


The Color of Water

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Drug Use, Step-siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: blood isn't always thicker.





	The Color of Water

**Author's Note:**

> written for salt burn porn. good times.

The family home, a pied-à-terre in northern Mississippi, sits right under Memphis’ nose. Jared hasn’t spared the house—or the town in which it resides—many thoughts since packing his bags for the bigger and better. For a city with an appropriate skyline and international influence, where downtown’s pedestrian traffic doesn’t thin out until way past midnight. But the things we do for little sisters.

It’s just a blip on the map, a fluke like faulty wiring. The culture centers around college football, tailgating in the Grove. And if that’s not your thing, you’re shit out of luck. The oppressive climate has always been unkind to kids like Jared who wore their hair too long and listened to their music too loud.

Jared arrives just one night before Meg graduates summa cum laude. The cars in the driveway are many, southern license plates lined up. Each expensive, glowing with a striking showroom gleam. He has his clothing dry-cleaned, hung on a hook in the backseat of the rental, and he’s too tired to go back and get it until he’s had at least one nap. Besides that, everything he needs fits in one carry-on.

Left on the porch, not in a million years did he think he’d end up back here. What happened to what he always told Meg? Get the fuck out of here as fast as you can and don’t look back. Your twenties are a commodity. Don’t squander them on keeping up with your friends. Well. That was a bunch of hot air, because Jensen was always Megan’s favorite. She flocked to his advice instead. _Don’t listen to Jared. He’s just sad and bitter_. And Jared couldn’t collect the strength to argue with him.

Jensen is everyone’s favorite. Including Jared’s.

 

**

 

“Look who made it in time for dinner!” Jared’s stepmother and Jensen’s mother exclaims. She presents Jared to the whole clan, squaring Jared’s upper half with Vanna White hands. Jared still wears his travel attire of a hoodie and a baseball cap with an emblazoned Yankee logo no one would appreciate in these parts. His bag trails behind him, tiny wheels scuffing against the hardwood emitting this pine sol scent throughout the living room.

He manages a nod paired with a smile. Gives everyone a mechanical once-over, passing by like anyone else he would back in New York. “Hello, everyone.”

Everyone being _literally_ everyone Jared has spent significant time-slots with in his thirty years. They gravitate to each other in a way Jared never has, all firing off these lazy syllables Jared himself never inherited. People say he doesn’t have an accent, accusatory and vilifying. Why should he have one? The accents here aren’t steeped in gold last time he checked. Though, Jensen was the only one who ever made it sound that way.

His age bracket lounges on the couch. Jensen included. Jensen toys with his phone, bored, mouth clamped shut and resting his blonde head on his fist. Back then, Jensen took Jared’s breath away by doing nothing more than what he’s doing now. There was something poetic in how Jensen could piss a day away, not appearing lazy, but rather, royal.

They’re all older now, deeper set lines in their faces that don’t quite look right and their toddlers playing together at their bare feet. Jensen’s biological brother and sister, cousins and their in-laws are all heaped in one section.

The ‘adults,’ as Jared still refers to them as no matter how old he gets, are gathered at the formal dining table. The open floor plan allows access to watch everyone having conversation, waiting for dinner. Not a hitch of their heads when Jared stepped in. They’re the extended family and family friends, only seen once every funeral or wedding. Jared can count how many of their names he knows on one hand.

Meg rises from the sofa, steps over the bridge of Jensen’s ankles crossed on the coffee table. “Idiot,” she says. “Your brother’s here.”

“I think I’d notice when a Sasquatch walks into the house,” Jensen retorts.

“The woman of the hour.” Jared greets his sister with a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. He whispers his congratulations into her hair even if she can’t really hear it.

Congratulatory texts and Facebook messages have been exchanged the moment he heard the news. Meg is a smart girl despite her choices in the company she keeps, faithfully following Jensen’s’ party-going footsteps.

When the rest of them see that the water’s fine, they line up for their semi-annual hug from their distant relative. Faint mixes of cologne and perfume under Jared’s nose.

“Damn, boy. Thought you wouldn’t fit through that door for a second.” Jared’s father says, interrupting the stream of hugs from Jared’s age group.

Right when Jensen is about to have his turn.

“Hey, Dad. That never gets old.” On some level, he means it. His dad is a constant. The figure who instilled hard work in him when it went through one of Jensen’s ears and out the other. The man responsible for finding him a stable home life in Jensen’s mother’s hometown right after the wedding, although rudimentary and dull at times. Mississippi woman, Texas man. Something ripped right from a country song.

Jared watches his brother over their dad’s shoulder. Starts to mouth something—but eyes are on the scene, and he swallows it down. Not knowing what he wanted to say, anyway.

The show must go on. “Give him some air, Pop,” Jensen butts Dad to the side playfully, and their father retorts with ruffling Jensen’s cropped haircut. The rest of the family light up the room with laughter. All eyes on Jensen. “Good to see you again. You owe me money, fucker.” Jensen jokes, jabs Jared in the ribs. And you could slice that thick accent with a blade.

“If you ever stopped asking me for money I’ll never recognize you again, Old Man,” Jared says, gestures to the few grays in his trimmed beard.

Jensen shrugs. “My age just means I banged more chicks than you by default. Little brother.”

They collide into a hug, strong limbs tied around each other, and refusing to let go. They try to limit the stares and the touches in front of the folks, knowing damn well once they start, it’s hard to stop.

Then somewhere from the left, Mom shouts, “So who wants dinner?”

“Food!” Jensen shouts and breaks them up from the hug Jared thought about the whole ride down. So much for that.

Food and sleep never entered the equation on the way here; just Jared staring at the listless road. Counting down the hours until he has Jensen’s hands on him again.

 

**

 

The house lies on a Lafayette county road behind trees an intruder would have to machete first before discovering there’s a quite beautiful home lodged behind all the leaves and kudzu. After that, the dirt trail road doesn’t promise much of anything besides more trees. Giving directions to the house was a nightmare. The few friends Jared met through Jensen’s circle couldn’t find it. Jensen had an odd pride about the location. Like they owned a bat cave.

It kind of is. It was fun to come here over the summers where the family would get together every time somebody was married, or a baby was born, Rebels versus Bama, or hell, sometimes breathing was a good enough reason to load up the truck for Oxford, barbeque on the vast lawn. Their primary home was just further north near Olive Branch. But this house once meant hours of laughter until Jared held his sides. Not so much these days. He doesn’t remember when it stopped. An age doesn’t come to mind, but Jensen was taller than Jared when everything fizzled out. Somewhere in that languid period from being the ring boy at the wedding to having thoughts about Jensen he shouldn’t have had, hand wrapped around his cock in the shower only five feet from where his brother slept.

Jensen settles back with his beer in one hand, other hand resting behind his head as he rocks in the chair. The porch is a classic wrap-around. Moonlight above, comfort food in their bellies, not a single noise besides the buzz of the porch light. The change is welcome from the city that never sleeps. Here, the bars close at midnight. How Jensen and Megan find their fun down here has always been puzzling.

Some of the family is back inside where there’s enough bedrooms for everyone to be comfortable. Back in the day, Jared and Jensen—‘the kids’—were eager to sleep in the living room, and let ‘the adults’ have the upstairs bedrooms. Now, the aunts and uncles resign to the local hotel. The cousins they’ve grown up with might sleep in the bedrooms after a long drive or flight. Then head off to somewhere with a continental breakfast by the morning, weirdly skipping out on homestyle pancakes and fresh coffee.

Jared sits beside Jensen in a matching rocking chair. Beer forgotten by his socked feet. Hands careful in his lap and counting the wood planks of the porch. The memories shouldn’t be so strong after all this time. He put enough distance between him and this place to make sure of that.

“Why the long face?” Jensen asks.

Jared looks up at his brother. Not his _brother_ , brother. But they were, and are, closer than he and Jeff, who grew up in San Antonio with their biological mother. “Nothing, just remembering what it was like when we were kids.” He shakes his head as if that’ll diffuse his mind of all the moments that are never coming back. He doesn’t mean it in a sad or mournful way. It’s just acknowledging an encyclopedic fact, almost. Gone are those days.

This gathering for Meg’s graduation is only a pale imitation of the original version. None of this bugs Jensen. Jensen’s got bigger fish to fry, Jared knows.

Jensen nods thoughtfully, always has been prudent with Jared’s concerns. Bottom lip drawn between his teeth. Half his face is shadowed, so Jared can’t worship properly. Memory isn’t such a drag after all, and Jared fills in the gaps on the face he’s memorized since he met Jensen on their first playdate. “You know everybody’s a fucking wreck these days. Even Mom’s barely holding it together. Don’t let them drag you down with them.”

“Don’t say it,” Jared warns.

“That includes me.”

“You said it.”

“We don’t have to talk about any of that, okay? We can talk about you. You’re the one who actually got out. I might learn something.” He chases the words with a long sip from his beer.

“There’s not much to tell. I work. I go home…” _I jerk off to my step-brother before I fall asleep_. “But how have you been? Dad told me about Parkwood.” It’s an odd time to check out Jensen’s crotch while mentioning the hospital stay. Just because he escaped this state, doesn’t make him holier than thou. If anything, the distance only solidified this sinful thing for Jensen.

“You know Parkwood. Fourth time’s the charm,” Jensen says, parched.

“Maybe talk to Dad about seeing a specialist in Memphis. An addictions counselor.”

“Maybe,” Jensen says. It’s his only offer, a sudden dead end to that part of the conversation.

Jensen checked in to Parkwood for the third time sometime after Christmas. The last trip was a couple weeks before Jared even decided going back for Meg’s graduation. “I would have been there for visiting hours. You know I would have drove the whole way without stopping once. But they just told me.”

“It’s alright. City boy has a lot on his plate. But no matter how big you get, I bet you still hoop like a bitch.”

Jensen’s getting from his seat, draining the rest of the beer. He strips his shirt off, a sheen of sweat coating him from the southern heat.

Jared won’t indulge, not now. Not yet. Maybe when he’s back in his bedroom upstairs with Jensen’s name on his lips. He’ll think of Jensen stripping his shirt off. He gets up from his chair, too and loses the shirt he’s been travelling in all day. “And you’re still fluent in talking shit.”

“I’m a big brother. It’s my native tongue.” Jensen winks.

They walk to the driveway where the hoop is bolted above the garage door. Jensen chases the basketball hidden in the bushes.

At the end of the one-on-one session, Jensen beats Jared by two points. Jensen pushes Jared against the garage door, leans Jared’s head down and plants a kiss on him, swirls a little tongue alongside Jared’s.

“Welcome back,” Jensen whispers when it’s over too soon.

Some things don’t change.

 

**

 

Their first kiss was in the house. Their first big fight. Their first fuck. Jared isn't sure what it says about him that he waited to fuck his brother in the family home, on a summer break from college or that he wanted to fuck his brother at all. Much less, in the bible belt.

Nothing seemed more natural to Jensen than gravitating to the house himself. Mom will prefer to leave the house to Jensen than to any of her other children. Jensen, who had to use the family home more than once in between rehabilitating at facilities that seemed to hurt more with medical bills more than they had helped. In the end, Jensen got to know the house better than Mom and her parents before her all together. Jared made the drive whenever he had the chance, holing up the place with Jensen, just the two of them.

The graduation brings traffic to the town almost worse than game day. Jared and Jensen arrive to campus first despite being the last of the troupe to get dressed. The others come flying toward Meg with flowers and their cameras and their smiles when they arrive. Jared makes a point of not standing next to Jensen in the endless photos they’re taking. Could lead to something dangerous like grabbing each other's hands when they take their seats. And no one would be surprised about the two finding their own little world among the hundreds of people in the public eye. Whenever Jared visited relatives back in Texas, word had it that Jensen refused to leave the house until Jared came back. No one ever blinked an eye. No one ever suspected.

The flurry settles down. The rest of the family is piled at City Grocery, making some server's life hell with all the orders for a party of at least twenty. Meanwhile, Jared and Jensen play football outside, shirts long forgotten and exploiting the excuse to tackle each other and make out in the grass.

Jensen's body is painted a salmon color. The color rises up, rouges his cheeks. He huffs out on the grass with Jared who has fallen under him. Fallen for his brother in every possible way. "What are your freakish long limbs actually for if you're useless at sports?"

"Well, I'm pretty good at holding you down while I fuck you."

Jensen huffs out a subtle laugh, helping Jared up. Back on their feet and heading for their seats on the porch, Jensen adjusts himself in his shorts. "We still have time to test that theory."

"Tonight," Jared promises and pulls Jensen into his side, kisses him on the temple.

That seems to be good enough for Jensen who cracks his beer open with his teeth when they land on the porch. Suds lava out, spilling from the top. He takes a long sip, and Jared wipes his face off with his t-shirt. He feels completely stupid for always underestimating the heat down here.

"You know, I was thinking about what you said last night."

"Yeah?" Jared raises an eyebrow at his brother. '

"Except maybe Dad could..." Jensen trails off, using an all-encompassing gesture with his hand. "Maybe he could look into facilities in New York."

No one ever gives up on Jensen in his efforts to get better. He's done all the requisite meetings, the slap on the wrist of jail time and community service. Even if Dad weren't fronting for the medical bills, Jensen knows just how monumentally he screwed up at a time when his judgement wasn't so sound. The one thing admirable about Jensen, if Jared were to narrow it down to one, is his progressive outlook toward treatment. But him moving to New York with Jared hasn't been a hot topic before.

Jared has to take a moment to respond. He packages something quickly because Jensen really is trying, and the effort needs to be acknowledged. "I was actually thinking of moving closer, actually. Thought I could get a transfer to Texas, spend more time with my mom's side," Jared says.

Jensen gulps his beer. That suddenly quiets his gasping breath leftover from the football. He nods. "Sounds good. I always liked your mom's folks," he offers lamely.

"Hey. Come here." Without another word, Jensen does. They slam their lips home. Jared kisses his brother, feeling Jensen harden against his thigh. Then he says, "I'm so fucking proud of you."

"Right back at ya."

 

**

 

Jared holds the world record for never breaking a promise to Jensen.

Good on his word, he knocks on Jensen's bedroom door when the last round of Monopoly finally died down, and everyone retreated to bed.

"It's open," Jensen says.

The light is on. This isn't really some deep, deep dark secret between them anymore. They're familiar with the repercussions of what they have together now. Jensen lies back on his bed naked, stroking his cock in one hand, rolling his balls with the other.

"That's pretty bold. Dude, what if I were Dad?"

"Then he's the one who'll need to check into Parkwood. Scar him for life." And another thing. Jensen doesn't punish himself for the things he's done. Even makes fun of himself for it. "You just came to watch?"

Jared strips right next to the bed, wondering why he bothered with clothes. Should have brought his robe, wearing nothing underneath.

They just kiss and it's already getting Jared hard. The quiet sounds Jensen makes are addictive. "You have to be quiet. I know you like to scream."

Jensen nods, captures Jared's mouth again. "Just fuck me already." Jensen is already open for him, just like he's always been instructed to. Anyone could wake up at any time. They're seasoned pros at this.

"Let me taste you first. Fuck, it's been so long."

"I'm up for that," Jensen agrees.

Jared doesn't need much more of an invitation than that. He travels down Jensen's body, steals kisses against the pale skin along the way before he's licking at Jensen's hole. Jared groans into it, fucking his tongue in and out at a leisurely pace. He'll take Jensen in any way he could: in pieces, through late night phone calls, behind the glass during visiting hours at the county jail. This way is by far his favorite. Jensen's flavor bursts on his tongue. He opens up the loosened hole a little more, can't resist pounding his finger in to hear more of those sweet sounds.

"Fuck, about to blow over here."

Jensen's hard candy dick rests at full attention on his belly. Jared's not too far behind.

"Come ride me," Jared gasps.

"Yessir," Jensen says, leaning for the bedside table.

Jared licks his lips in his appreciation at the sight of Jensen's hole. Then he thinks better of it. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Condom?" Jensen turns his head, brows confused.

"No," Jared nearly growls. "I need to feel you around me. All of you."

Jensen abandons the drawer, and doesn't say anything else.

It's a team effort. Jensen jerks Jared's cock while Jared circles at Jensen's lubed-up ass. The heat at the surface is scorching.

Jensen slowly sinks down onto Jared, mouth fixed into a silent O. When Jared's rooted in his brother, not an inch wasted, he thrusts up into Jensen's insides. His brother's so tight. There hasn't been anyone else. This is for him, this soaking wet hole is for him.

Jensen works his hips in circles, his version of a filthy pirouette. Jared meets him halfway, always helping his brother out. Jared urges Jensen to lie chest-to-chest now that he's more comfortable. The muscles adjust around Jared's cock. Not so much to lose the perfect fit. He could squirt his spinal fluid through his dick right about now, and die happy.

Jensen whispers his little "fuck me's," his "yeah, right there’s." That's how Jared knows he's hit Jensen’s sweet little spot.

“Come for me, beautiful.”

“Fuck, baby.” Jensen rockets off on Jared’s chest, and that about does it for Jared’s stamina.

“Knees,” Jared rasps with what’s left of his voice.

Jensen obeys, bends to his knees right on the bed while Jared tries to arrange himself over this pretty face. Jensen licks at Jared’s balls, looking up at his brother with an adoration that’s always been there. Not just fuck-lust, but love. At the core of everything, their haunted pasts, their blood with mismatched DNA that doesn’t make them any less than brothers, there’s love.

Jared shoots across Jensen’s face, thinking of all these things bundled into one. Jensen licks the come off his own lips. “Tasty.”

 

**

 

Everyone’s scattered around the house, packing up and heading out for the long work week ahead.

Jensen will stay behind, clearing the rubble from his head until he teams up with Dad to find a better facility close to San Antonio. He watches Jared packing up his laptop and the few clothes Jared has brought along. They’ve spent the better part of morning curling into each other, researching Jensen’s options. May be time to pull out the big guns, and do outpatient detox, Jensen decided. Dad will make more phone calls about it tomorrow morning.

“I’ll let you know when the transfer goes through. You’ll be the first to know,” Jared says, though, he doesn’t really have to. Jensen always comes first.

“I’ll be…around.”

“Not too late for you to get in the car with me. Get some city life every once in a while, you hick.”

“Yeah, I suppose I could.” Jensen smiles.

That’s how Jensen ends up packing a small bag in Jared’s rental.

Now the house is empty, void of the laughter that was once had over the weekend and throughout the years. Jared notices Jensen’s hands still shaking, but for once, he’s indulgent enough to believe it’s not from any synthetic chemicals this time. It may be from all the miles in front of them. Just waiting to be discovered.


End file.
